Sonder
by whywarg
Summary: Their childhood friendship was circumstantial; scrolls written between their fathers and delivered by their hands. The path of their lives split irrevocably by their choices - he; mass-murderer, traitor, terrorist - she; semi-orphaned, caretaker of her three younger brothers, medical-nin trying to restore her family honor. But a life is more complex than that simplicity.
1. Scroll I: Blue

Sonder - Scroll I: Blue

 _Locked up, naked with socks  
I'm watching the phone ring  
It's making me angry  
It's making me mad_

Outside, the rains drained all the color from the world, washing the streets to a dulled grey that shuddered even into the trees. Droplets made music on the window panes, distant percussions that leaked into the house. Inside, the shadows of night still stretched from hall to hall, toneless and opaque. The water was boiling in the kettle, softly ahum with steam. Somewhere above, the wood of the beams creaked and elsewhere; the howl of the wind. Whatever serenity of morning this scene offered was shattered by the phone – shrill belltones that struck the air in rapid, hollow succession. Her eyes were drawn to it, hanging there on the wall, and continued to stare as its ringing persisted … Beyond, the storm was gaining in force, the branches of a nearby tree brushing against the window; scraping, tapping. The phone continued, undeterred. Even as the dark of the shadows grew and the sun seemed to want to rise – as the kettle let out a shrill whistle and a warning note of thunder resounded; the phone was absolute. Her eyes closed.

 _She could feel the wind rising around the compound as she sat on the steps, waiting for the scroll to take back to her father. Above, the clouds were threatening rain, rumbling and growling thunderous refrains. Her eyes watched their underbellies shudder with light and she curled deeper into herself, trying not to quake in fear. She was so young, then, and scared of the storms that often made their way through the village. Just as the skies broke with the first drops of rain, the door slid open. Expecting her scroll, she had turned and found herself instead looking up into a woman's face. "Come in out of the rain," she said quietly, her face but a kind smile. So she had, small and shivering and wet. "Stay right here. I will be right back."_

 _And she had found herself looking around the house; up at the decorations on the walls. Absently, she had placed her shoes by the door and wrapped her arms around herself. She had noticed the boy standing in another doorway, watching with dark grey eyes, but did not know what to say. Outside, lightning cracked and she startled, beginning to shake more._

" _Don't worry," the boy had told her. "It can't hurt you in here. It will pass."_

Eventually, she stood, giving in to the inevitability; turning off the stove, moving the kettle, and picking up the phone. Question. "Yes, this is she." Introduction. "Yes, how is he?" News. Heart dropped like a stone sinking into a pond; felt somewhere tangled in her stomach. Silent. "No, I am still here." Intake of breath. "No, I understand." Exhale. "Yes, I will be there." Pause. "Thank you for calling. Goodbye." Receiver hung back to the wall and fist curling, tightening. Jaw clenching. A moment of built tension before the release. The want to strike the wall came and went and Mari Kodama closed her eyes, took another slow inhale, and turned to finish making her tea. A glance at the clock; a glance at the weather outside served only to articulate that time was passing too slow.

Breakfast was started at a quarter to six and the rains had yet to break. The grey of the day seemed to mix with her mood and even as she climbed the stairs to wake her brothers, there was a knot at the back of her throat. _You lose patients sometimes,_ she reminded herself, but it did nothing to lessen the ache of heart nor the anger that choked her breaths. Her fingers rose to rub at her temple as she walked soundlessly down the length of the hall to the door at the end. _There was nothing you could have done._ It felt like a lie; she could have stayed later at the hospital, started treatment as soon as her chakra replenished. _You had to look after the boys._ That one felt like an excuse, even as she raised her hand to knock on the door. _They rely on you._

"Breakfast," she called in, opening the door and reaching to flick on the lights. Several sets of groans replied, all in protest, as blankets were yanked higher and Mari could not help but sigh. _They can't function without you._ The words still sounded lackluster as she walked into the bedroom and opened the curtains – letting in the mundane grey haze of the morning. "Let's go boys – up, up – we have things to do today!"

"You have things to do," came the dreary reply of her oldest sibling, Junseo, who had sat up in bed to regard her with open contempt in those dark eyes. "I don't have to be at the training grounds until _nine_."

"Well, it sounds as though you will get some extra training hours," Mari replied heatedly, "Which you _need._ You're already behind your teammates and it has nothing to do with a lack of skill." She grabbed his shirt off the hanger and tossed it onto the bed, ignoring the responding scowl as she turned her attention to the other two.

The twins were lazily fighting over a pair of socks and Mari intervened, splitting them apart and handing them each one of the socks – moving to the drawer to fish out another set. _They're helpless._ She thought, watching as the seven-year-olds debated which of the original socks was the better of the match. Handing Takeo and then Takumi each another sock, Mari lingered long enough to make sure that Junseo was actually going to get up before heading back downstairs.

As she neared the stairs, Takeo ran by, holding Junseo's shirt in his fist and cackling. Takumi soon followed, likewise laughing as their older brother yelled after them – "Give it back you little idiots!"

Mari brought a hand to her face, giving a silent prayer to whatever deities were listening. _Please let me get through this._ "Takeo, give your brother back his shirt – and Takumi, stop running through the house!" A glance was thrown back to Junseo. "And you – don't be bested by a pair of seven-year-olds!"

Returning to the kitchen, she managed to wrangle everyone into their seats, place the food on the low table and mutter a quick thanks before chaos could break out again. Food was a miracle worker, however, and once it became the primary motivator for everyone, it was easier for the siblings to get along. Mari ate her rice and went over the schedule for today in her head. _Takeo and Takumi need to be at the Academy by eight, Junseo needs to be the training grounds at nine. I should go ahead and make my way to the hospital and then pay my respects to the family …_

"Junseo, remember you need to pick up the twins from the Academy this afternoon," Mari reminded, standing to place her bowl in the sink and begin to make their mother a tray as well as pack the boys their lunches. "I will likely be working late and won't be able to take time off to get them."

"I know," her brother replied sullenly, stabbing at his food.

"I don't want Iruka to have to bring them home again," she reminded, trying not to sound terse. It had happened several times over the last few months and it pained Mari to know that _someone else_ was having to look after her family. Oh, it mattered little to her that Iruka seemed genuinely unbothered by the task. _We have to look out for one another. We are all we have._

"You know, when we were seven we walked home by ourselves. It's not like the village has gotten more dangerous since then."

Mari fixed him with a look that would curdle milk, satisfied only when Junseo sank down a bit and turned his eyes back to the food. Takeo made a face at him and Takumi followed, the two dissolving into giggles. Junseo did not meet her eyes but did give his brothers a new, heartier glare. It struck her briefly how much the three looked alike – with their jet hair and dark brown eyes – but with temperaments that seemed more fitting of wild beasts.

"You will pick them up from the Academy," Mari told Junseo, firmly. "Or the next time you decide you want to be clever and sneak out at night with your friends, _I will be there._ " It was not so much as a threat, as a promise. "And I will walk _you_ home." Mari never failed to hear the door to the balcony slide open and footsteps disappear along the side of the house. There was a reason she thought her brother might want to train a bit harder. The responding look of horror was enough to lull her into a sense of security, as she began to gather the dishes from the table to pile them in the sink. It would be a cleaning endeavor for a later time. _If only we could afford to hire a maid,_ she lamented privately.

"Can we please have salmon in our lunches today, onee-chan?" Takumi asked hopefully, fixing her with those wide brown eyes.

"No! Let's have tuna instead!" Takeo interjected, looking at her with a hunger brightening his own, lighter eyes. "With eggs!"

"Noodles and vegetables today," she replied. "And already made." Rolling her eyes, Mari wrapped the bento boxes in cloth and sat them on the counter by the door. Glancing at the clock, she gave a low note. "Now, go get ready. The weather isn't cooperating and we'll have to walk over soon."

The twins, seemingly unbothered, began their usual race up the stairs. Junseo eventually stood, stretched, and fixed her with a disinterested look. He glanced at the tray and frowned slightly before following his younger brothers. Mari sighed, grabbed the tray, and followed as well, although with a different destination in mind.

 _Maxed out, minimum wage  
My brain is a time bomb  
I'm saying goodbye, Mom  
I'll see you again_

"Okaa-san?" She knocked on the first door, nearly pressing her ear against it. When there was no reply, she tested the knob and found it unlocked. Entering quietly, she closed the door behind her and waited for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the new darkness. The layout of the room and its belongings were as familiar to her as her own reflection; unchanging and unaltered for the years that had passed. "Okaa-san?" She tried again, remaining unsurprised when her mother gave no answer.

As with the unending days before, the shell of her mother was still in bed, covered by a thick blanket and unmoving. Pausing to make sure, Mari counted the spaces between her breaths before placing the tray on the end table, eyes watching the steady rise and fall of the bundle. Her mother had long since wasted away into only a breath of a woman, her long black hair falling about her now and obscuring her features. She was turned away, curled in on herself, her fingers held close to her chest and unmoving. The room smelled of age and dust, a time capsule of a life changed.

Gathering her chakra and forming the appropriate seals, her palms began to glow with their greenish light and gently, quietly, she ghosted them over her mother's form, closing her eyes and concentrating. Below the skin, everything felt frail and hollow, continuing on in its use but never able to garnish for itself much strength. Sighing, Mari withdrew the chakra from her hands and allowed them to fall back to her side. She prided herself on her abilities as a medical-nin, but some wounds could not be healed.

Tugging softly on the edges of the blanket, Mari covered the curled form of her mother with the blanket and withdrew, retracing her steps back toward the door. The old tray was taken with her, the soup from the previous night now cold and almost accusatory within its porcelain bowl. Her reflection and that of the room swam and joined in the broth and she fought the new nausea in her stomach, refusing to look at any of the photographs hanging on the walls. She didn't want to see their family in the times before.

The house itself was filled with enough reminders of the way things had once been; her fathers belongings still where they had been on the night that final night. She had been unable to move them, to lock them away, and thus, they lived alongside them, with those ghosts of memory. She often would go into his office to do research but more often she would go in there to sit, to relive the sight of him there at the desk, smiling at her and trying not to appear so busy. _He always failed._ But in spite of it, she smiled.

The door to the room was firmly closed, leaving it to blend back into the backdrop as Mari merely moved toward her own, throwing casual glances toward the room of her brothers to make sure they were, in fact, getting dressed. Crossing the threshold, she shut and turned the lock (it had only taken the twins bursting in on her _once_ to make sure that key step was never forgotten). Textbooks and journals littered the desks – scrolls pooling off the corners and onto the floor. Equipment of all sorts covered every inch of available space, from live plant specimens growing on the window sills and in hanging baskets, to the jars of cuttings that were on high selves or here or there. Kunai and shuriken were tucked out of reach from grabbing hands but nevertheless present, surrounding half-finished summoning seals and paperwork. Her lack of organization might be alarming to some of her peers and she had no real excuse other than she did not have the time to keep it all in order. Nor the want, if she were being honest with herself.

Stepping over one of the scrolls, she started on the task of getting herself ready to face the day. Despite the circumstances, she dressed in her normal attire; a mixture of materials from her dual roles as a Tokubetsu Jōnin and medical-nin. She wore the sigil a medical-nin in that mesh of red to white, but opted for a more standard Jōnin look otherwise. The standard outer jacket of the Konoha medical-nin had been altered into a long kimono; the cream-off-white offset by a nice saturated red lining with the red medical-nin sigil displayed proudly. The black of her sandals were tall and without heel, calves wrapped. Buckling her belt and satchels into place about her waist, she bent to slide several of the scrolls into their rightful place in the holders. The act calmed her slightly, despite the continuous tapping of the rain against the windows.

Brushing out her hair, she marveled at how light the color had gotten, having become almost a sandy blonde over the past year. A few months back she had cut herself some straight bangs but continued to let the rest of it grow, unbothered when it now swung at her hips. Freckles from the constant sun dusted the bridge of her nose and cheeks. The septum piercing and vertical labret were leftover from gone days of fledgling rebellion and she could not bring herself to remove them. Fitting her headband into his rightful place hanging from her belt, she gave once last glance in the mirror, another to the picture on her windowsill, and headed out to round up the boys for the start of the day.

 _Striking a pose  
Smiling in photos without any reason  
With people that I'll never know  
I'm outta control, living a fictional prose  
I took an oath, it's killing me though  
'Cause I don't believe in the things that I do_

If there was more to life than ticking objectives off of a schedule, Mari felt like she would never know. The expectations that her village, her country, her family had for her were the only things to set the course for her day. It did not matter, rain or shine, those expectations would always be there, always coming forever anything else. Not that Mari _had_ anything else. Thus, she escorted Takeo and Takumi to the Academy, stopping to have a brief chat with Iruka about nothing in particular; pleasantries, comments about the downpour and how things were going, disbelief that Junseo had actually graduated. For his part, the dour preteen quickly dismissed himself to go meet his team, despite Mari reminding him that he had been so _certain_ that he did not have to meet them until nine. It was the best way of assuring that she would not hear from him for the remainder of the day. Bidding the instructor a smiled farewell, Mari made her way toward the hospital, umbrella shouldered and mind beginning to distract itself in the puddles that gathered on the roadway, reflecting the imperfect skies.

Underneath the rainfall, Konoha was swathed in inactivity, the streets feeling listless and lifeless. The normally colorful buildings had taken on an uncharacteristic greyscale, reminding her of how the village looked during wartime, or after – _No,_ she told herself sternly. _You will not think about that._ In spite of herself, she did, tracing the walls of the buildings and remembering half-running this way when she were so much younger, scroll tightly in hand, dress catching the breeze as her steps echoed on the stones. She had always felt so very important, heading to the Uchiha compound, the words of her father wrapped up in that scroll and securely sealed away to all but to whom they were addressed. She felt as though she were delivering the most precious of things; correspondence – and in her child mind, it had meant more than the world – it had meant everything.

" _Ma-chan," her father would call her into the office, looking down at her with such warmth in those eyes. "I have a scroll that needs to be delivered." He would hold it out to her, like a secret treasure, sealed tightly and bound with a simple tie. "You know the rules, don't you?" Mari had always assured him that she did, nodding rapidly and holding out her hands. The scroll had always been held so tightly, so securely. She was it's keeper – he had entrusted it to her. "That's my girl," he would say, going back to his paperwork. "Now run along and remember the rules." The rules had always been running through her mind with every step – do not stop – do not loiter – do not hand the scroll to anyone but Fugako or his wife – make sure not to overstay._

It was only on that last one rule did Mari every bend; for several times it felt as though she might have overstayed. But never once was it brought up, and never once was it questioned. _Father always had such great confidence in me._ She thought to herself, and not for the first time wondered if such confidence was well-placed. But Tatsuo Kodama would never had said an ill word about anyone, least of all a member of his family. _Loyalty. Honesty. Duty. Honor. Dedication._ The pillars of their clan, of their household, and the pillars that he had always believed should govern their lives; should govern the lives of all shinobi. _Do no harm._ A pillar that within her had cracked.

Looking up now through the dreary visage of the day, she beheld the Konoha hospital rising from that grey and hesitated just outside the outer fence. For every medical-nin carried within themselves a small cemetery where from time to time they withdrew – a place of bitterness and regret, where they must look for an explanation for their failures. For Mari had failed once of her patients, a fellow Jōnin that had returned from a mission in a bad way, to put it mildly. She had worked for many hours to stem the bleeding on his internals, to mend the walls of his lungs and his to heal the damage to his bones. Eventually she had run out of chakra, and had run out of time. She had gone home, assuring herself, and others, that they would continue in the morning with hope that his condition was stable and with hope that other skilled medics would be there should things go awry. The phone had rung and it was not a call to arms. No, it had been a call for a shovel.

Steeling herself against the chill of the wind, Mari approached the hospital, composing herself into a mask of calm professionalism, allowing the turmoil of emotions to be pressed below the surface. There would be further time to mourn, to consider her hand in this. For now, it was time to put on the mask and do as her job demanded her do. Crossing into the lobby, the umbrella disappeared in a swirl of mist and Mari took a moment to run a hand along her clothes, giving a glance at the nurse's station and bowing her head in acknowledgement. She had arrived at fifteen minutes past eight. Immediately, one of her colleagues, a more permanent fixture at the hospital, by the name of Hōshō, intercepted her and directed their movement through the wing.

"Mari-sama, here is the chart. The body is still located in its room. Time since coding; two hours and fifteen minutes. Autopsy pending your approval. Subject experienced convulsions before going into cardiac arrest. Revival attempts were futile."

"Thank you, Hōshō, I can take it from here." Thumbing through the medical charts, the information was validated, taking a moment to read through the necessary lines. Gradually, and then all at once, her mind sank into the familiarity of the work, allowing a relief from the pressure gathering at the back of her throat. For the moment, the emotional side was detached, and mind became preoccupied in the _why._ Simply; what had gone wrong?

Moving through the adjacent wing and into the room, Mari was greeted by several others on the staff gathered around the bed. A sheet had been pulled over the head of the Jōnin to maintain his dignity if death. Pulling her hair back into a bun, Mari moved to the bedside and gently coaxed the sheet down and off the face of the man and then lower … revealing his figure still clad in the abrasive black underbody garments that so many of their profession wore. Fingers shifting into the proper hand seals, they were soon awash with that chakra, moved slowly over the body as her eyes flickered shut in concentration. She was unsurprised to find significant damage to the cardiac arteries, following the blood vessels throughout the body and suppressing the urge to frown. After a few minutes look, her hands dropped and the sheet was gently placed back over the face of the man.

"Blood vessel abnormalities," Mari explained, uncapping her pen and writing it upon the chart. "The coronary arteries and aorta suffered significant damage but some of these abnormalities look as though they were merely genetic. The adrenaline of the earlier fight put a strain on the vessels, acting as a trigger. I see that he went into cardiac arrest when he first got here, but with these abnormalities present …" She shook her head. _There is only so much we can do._ That particular phrase went unspoken but understood, several of her colleagues giving nods as she signed off on the forms, signaling that an autopsy would not be needed unless directly requested by the family.

 _I could have done more if I had know,_ she thought to herself, moving through the doors and toward another one of the rooms that lined the hall. _I should have looked more carefully._ Although part of her could rationalize that there was only so much that she could be responsible for, the larger part held firm to the belief that this mistake was on her. A man had lost his life, and if she had caught the blood vessel abnormalities in her initial appraisal … _There was so much internal damage._ Placing her hands upon him had been conjured pictures of mincemeat. A nausea gripped her stomach. _You could have saved him._

Another chart was pressed into her hands and Mari took another deep breath, nodding in unspoken thanks before passing the next set of doors into another sparsely decorated room. This one was not populated by a corpse and its onlookers; instead Asuma Sarutobi looked fit and ready to be discharged, surrounded as he was by his fellow Jōnin. Kakashi Hatake, Might Guy, and Kurenai Yūhi were certainly a sight for sore eyes, the three of them crowded in the room as they were.

"Please tell me you're hear to sign the release paperwork," Asuma groaned, sitting on the edge of the bed and fixing her with a sideways grin and lidded eyes. "I could really use a smoke."

"One more physical exam and you're all set," Mari promised, giving him a just smile as she stepped closer, aware of the others in the room. "Just need to make sure you don't have any more spots on your lungs than the ones you came in here with." Their small familiarity allowed her the one jest.

"I'll have two cigarettes when I get out of here, just for you," Asuma promised, pretending not to notice the daggered look that Kurenai tossed in his direction.

"Don't listen to him, his pride's just hurt," she supplemented for him, giving him a meaningful look that did not invite deeper reading.

"A man's pride is his youth, Kurenai!" Guy interjected. "Let Asuma express it."

Deciding it might be best to ignore the other Jōnin, Mari drew near, formed the needed hand seals, and set to her examination with what she would only consider the upmost professionalism and dedication to the task at hand. In no way was she attempting to expediate the process so should get out of this overcrowded sphere and away from her … peers. At times she found it hard to relate; they were all so familiar with one another and had been for many years. Her arrival into their little circle had been noted as little more than another year. To put it bluntly, Mari had known them as her peers for two, almost three, years, since her advancement from Chūnin, before then their acquaintance was just as shinobi above her level. The honorific of 'sama' still at times was tempted to leave her mouth.

"You are all set to go," Mari announced, reaching up to pull the tie from her hair and allow it to return to its length. Pen scratched on parchment and the chart was hugged back to her chest. "Try not to smoke an entire pack today, okay, Asuma?" She tried her best to give him a stern look, but it evaporated into a smile and a small shake of her head.

"No promises," the Jōnin answered, honestly, rising and moving toward the door. Immediately he was followed by both Kurenai and Guy, who were still locked in a discussion that while philosophical bordered less heavily on being inspirational and more just purely nonsensical. Mari looked after them for a moment before turning back to the other sole occupant in the room, Kakashi Hatake.

"Kakashi-sama?" Mari asked, drawing his attention up from his _Icha Icha_ novel. Stepping to the side, she directed with a nod of her head that the others had left and that he should likely do the same.

Lazily, the man pushed off from his place leaning against the window frame and headed for the door. The sauntering nature of his gait and apparently lackadaisical movements betrayed the reputation that he held. _Scarecrow._ Mari thought, observing him from the relative obscurity of her clipboard, pen continuing to scratch notes and make edits to the paperwork. She told herself that she was merely putting the finishing touches on the work; it had been completely half a dozen pen scratches ago and was only lowered when the man was out of sight. Moving to follow him out, Mari was taken aback to find Kakashi instead waiting for her in the hall, the book that had absorbed his attention closed and put away. His singularly visible eye regarded her simply. The look made her feel trapped.

"Any word on how Osaki Sotaro is doing?" Kakashi asked, tilting his head just to the side as though to gauge her reaction.

"I am sorry, Kakashi-sama," Mari began, picking her words carefully and allowing that mask of professionalism to fall, just, revealing the truth pensiveness that she felt, unearthing just a bit of the regret that had been so callously pushed aside earlier that morning. "Unfortunately he did not make it through the night." _Cardiac arrest. Blood vessel abnormalities._ Words that she did not say. No word of the way that his internals that swelled and hemorrhaged. No word on the names that had left like pleas from his lips until he lost consciousness beneath her hands.

Something more than that barest emotion must have prevented itself on her features, for Kakashi nodded, once, and offered her a longer glance. "I am sorry." _Sorry for your loss._ As the older man moved to leave, his put his hand briefly on her shoulder and Mari did her best not to flinch at the contact. It was not that it was unwanted or unwelcome; simply that it was unexpected. Turning just, she watched as he followed the corridor and soon disappeared from sight. Only then did she allow herself to release the ragged breath that she had been holding.

 _Roped up, rat in a cage  
I'm having a breakdown  
Drinking at a playground, tequila for one  
Too short, walking the streets, I'm hating my haircut  
You say that you're here, but  
You live on the Sun_

As the day rose in a crescendo toward noon, the corridors of the hospital gradually began to fill, the flow of patients, ebbing and flowing. As per the usual, she ran emergency work, working alongside the quick-response staff. Together they healed those with wounds serious enough to warrant immediate attention; for at the moment she was one of the most skilled medical-nin on call for the day. The guilt was wearing on her mind and she threw herself all the more fixatedly into the work, hair pulled back and hands, skills at their best. Her mind was static and blankness. Break was only taken when the flow of chakra ceased, when her form was too exhausted to continue, and a momentary respite was taken under the guise of an early lunch. Instead she sat on the roof of the hospital with her legs dangling off the edge and her mind heavy enough to want to just lean forward. Umbrella shielded her from the continued downpour, and if the day did not reflect the thoughts in her head she would.

A tremor had begun to work its way through her skin, a shudder that despite her best efforts could not be contained. Soon she was quivering, biting hard at the piercing on her lip and pulling the umbrella all the more firmly down to shroud herself. She had long since washed the blood off her hands but the memory of it there was enough to evoke the thought of permanent stains. Beneath her hands she could still feel the slip of viscera and the feeling of holes where there _should not be holes._ The feeling of mending tissue, stitching flesh and ebbing plasma, pressing down upon swelling and attempting to mend more than just _skin._ At times, when she closed her eyes, it was tangible, as though it were her _hands_ that were beneath the skin, moving organs and sewing with thin thread. Never could she forget how intimate using chakra was, especially when it was used to heal. She poured herself into these patients, creating these links to them, these bonds and connections …

 _And then they die._ The thought came, unbidden and unwanted and caused the shaking within her bones to deepen until she was trembling there, on the brink of tears, staring out at the drenched skyline of her village. Blinking them away, anger followed with that remorse, that guilt, searing heated and angry and Mari knew that if she did not get herself under control, things would get bad. She could not be sitting here pending an emotion breakdown while below, the hospital carried on. She was one of the cogs in the gears, one of the valves in its heart, and through _her_ efforts today and _their_ efforts they would prevent others from following suite. But the snake was already in the garden, winding its way through her thoughts, and she looked down at her home with only regrets like ash and fire in her mouth.

In the end, al she could bring herself to do was stand and make her way down to the streets, trying to find some sort of distraction that would prove enough to shake those unbidden thoughts. _You don't deserve peace of mind._ The words were acidic and not fully of her own voice, a twist in her subconscious. The pain in her chest flared violently and without realizing, she quickened her steps, keen on going anywhere.

In Konoha, shinobi were as much revered as they were quietly feared by the civilians whom they protected. The mark of the medical-nin did little to assuage their distrust. Mari understood such; the things that people of her station and above were capable of things that seemed positively occult, magical, compared to the average person. _All it took was to sell your soul._ She almost laughed this time at the cynical words. The truth of it was that they pledged their lives to their Hokage, to their country, to their village and its people, and devoted their lives to following the orders of those above them and doing all that they were able to adhere to a code of honor, duty, and sacrifice. Or you learned to be good enough to hide your self-interest and selfishness and appease those around you. Yes, she had met peers like that as well. For while there had to be trust amongst teammates, had to be a certain comradery birthed out of necessity, Mari had learned that no matter how close you felt as though you got, there was always more left unknown. And one day, those unknown factors would change the course of your life.

Point being, she did not feel quite at home in her own skin amongst the civilians that called the city home, amongst the food vendors and shops, filled with people buying flowers for loved ones and going to their jobs. Envy curled its fingers in her chest. They would work their hours, go back to their families, and have problems that she could not comprehend. For while she was a sister and practically, at this point, a mother to her brothers, she was not a civilian and in no way lived that sort of life. At times she ached for that simplicity, for that peace of mind that her mother had bought for herself so long ago. _And you see how that turned out._ The thought was bitter but enough to shake the fantasies for now.

Fingers brushed her bangs, adjusted her umbrella, and toyed with the idea of actually getting lunch before the thought was dismissed. There wasn't room in the budget. Instead, Mari took a detour along the backstreets and without meaning to found herself retracing the steps toward the compound. Catching herself, she turned down a less familiar side street with the intent to go back to the hospital. Above, there was a brief reprieve from the swathing clouds; showering the world below with god rays of incandescent light. As that brilliant color spilled over the monochrome and transformed the village back into light, she paused, watching as all about her changed.

 _There was a dragonfly alighting on the surface of the pond, sending ripples through the reflection of the sky. Its wings shuddered, stirred, and rose. From her place on the steps, she watched it touch and retreat – moving through the small garden that grew at the front of the house. Her head was upon her knees, her arms wrapped around them, simply watching as the plants unfurled their leaves in the retreat of the rain. Each leaf cupped water droplets, and they cascaded down the steps. A small bug crawled from one of the flowers and made a stead advance toward her, across the wooden slats. She watched it for a while before sweeping it delicately up in her fingers and placing it back on one of the buds._

 _The hair on the back of her neck prickled and her head turned, coming almost face to face with the older of Fugako's sons. He stood just outside the doorway, regarding her with a curiosity and when their eyes met, she smiled at him, raising her head from her knees. With a hand, she patted the seat next to her and he relented, moving to sit beside her. Above, the grey of the clouds had parted and thin sunlight shone through. She basked in it. When the bug crawled back toward them, this time it was he that reached out and put it back on its leaf._

" _I wish it would stay," Mari murmured, giving it a look. The sternness was lost on her five-year old face. "It might get crushed."_

" _It will be okay," he had assured, offering her a smile that barely turned up the corner of his lips. Mari had seen him once before, but never had she seen him smile; it in turn made her beam. She liked his smile._

" _What's your name?" She had asked, hugging her legs tightly and likely him already. He had cared about the bug, too, after all._

" _Itachi."_

The memory almost stole the break from her lungs. For a moment she was unsteady on her feet; disoriented. Her fingers clutched the umbrella just a bit tighter and she tore her eyes away from the puddles – away from the reflection of the heavens above and the firmament espied. Jaw clenched, eyes burned, and she breathed. The stress was going to kill her one day, of that she could be sure, hating the way that it poisoned her mind and soured her insides. It made her all the more sentimental, all the more pained, and every memory was a daggered reminder of what was no longer – what had been – and every happy moment was just a nightmare to relive. She had so many happy dreams nowadays that turned to ash as soon as she awoke – so many pleasant memories that turned into smoke. These thoughts in her head felt like they belonged to someone else but that was a lie. They were kept for a reason and Mari was convinced it was just to torture herself.

Looking up at the skies, she watched as the sun withdrew back into the clouds, taking with it that warmest light and gilding its edges with gold. Her stomach clenched unpleasantly as the grey bled back into the surroundings and the shadows turned the world dour. Once more Konoha was a place for phantoms and old friends and she was vaguely aware of the movement of life around her as she stayed still. So she fished the broken pieces of her heart out of the puddle and tucked them in her pocket – screwed her head on right. She needed to get back to work; there would be more patients coming in. And today she would lose none of them.

 _Burning a kite  
I'm at a funeral, nothing unusual  
Baby, I do what I like  
Looking to fight, smoking a blunt and a pipe  
Taking a bite, worm in the apple  
I knew what would happen, 'cause honey the vermin survive  
Swerve to the side, been driving all night_

Candles would flicker ghosts of light over the framed picture propped against the headstone. Soft eyes and a wide smile would be all that could remain, features already lost in obscurity; evermore just a photograph of a lost soul. The flames illuminated the dusky shades of the rock and threw sparse light onto the white flowers that adorned the grave. The lily was placed amongst the others, Mari bowing her head to offer silent words to the deceased before moving on, bowing in turn to the family members before again taking her place in the crowd, dissolving into the back. One by one, others followed suit, just as others before her, the low murmurs of soft voices coupling with the rising winds and above, the skies at any moment threatened to break. Her arms wrapped about herself, pulling the black shawl tighter, closer, hoping to disappear within it as time continued to falter forward.

Mari had known Osaki Sotaro in life, if only at a distance. Several times they had done missions together in a unit; they had exchanged words on the street. Like so many others, she had followed him into battle and had been fortunate enough to follow him out. They had fought alongside one another, for their village – for Konoha. Before the sun had disappeared on the previous day, he had arrived at the hospital barely breathing and gasping out cries for help. It had been all that he could do to crawl back home, trailing blood and desperation, and despite her best efforts … she had not done enough. She stared forward, as the funeral continued, as the service carried on and she was not just attending the funeral of Osaki. Mari was attending the funeral of all the patients that she had failed to save, the Jōnin that she had fought alongside, the Chūnin that had gone to school with her – the children that had graduated the academy and become shinobi for so many different reasons.

They all seemed destined to end up here, in this exact place, and though the names were different, the rest was the same. She stood amongst the crowd of other shinobi, resolute and stony faced; their masks ones of remembrance and a quiet grieving that went far beyond expressionless. This was a wound that cut deep; this was a familiar circumstance. The graveyard about them was fuller every time and just a little bit emptier …

The feeling seized inside her chest and threatened to bring breakfast rising to the top of her throat as she remembered the feeling of his broken body beneath her hands and the feeling of his bones sitting wrong beneath the skin – the sound of his voice pleading for someone to help him and the names of his mother, his father, his sister leaving his lips in whispered exhalations. She saw his eyes widen in recognition of something great and terrible, the whites of his eyes showing and a look of fear slackening his features. What he saw she did not dare to begin to consider; but it took hold of her form and threatened to start the shaking again.

 _This is what we deserve._ The thought was as daggered as the rest, the words tailored on the edge of a blade, made to cut and to open old wounds and create new. They were killers, all of them, weapons for war and weapons of destruction – bartering chips for the village and cannon fodder. They were made to keep the peace, enforce the laws, and die for the beliefs that rooted them all. They were forged into killers and told to find peace. They struggled to find common ground and to find light in the darkness and every day it was the same reminders as they saw children dreaming of being great ninja. They raised them, crushed their dreams and tossed them into this cycle.

Mari Kodama felt small, small and insignificant and nameless, faceless. Even when the service concluded and she stood there in the new rain, slowly getting drenched, staring forward amongst all the graves, she could not compel herself to move. Something leaden had seeped into her bones and despite the outward appearance of calm, she felt something tenuous within her begin to bow and break. For the cracks had been there for a long time and underneath the pressure, something was bound to give.

 _I'm thinking of changing my name, thinking of wrecking a home  
'Cause loving and hating are one and the same  
And I'm feeling like everyone's feeling alone_

Disassociation. The events of the evening did not touch her. Stepping outside of herself, Mari saw her body make the walk home, greet her brothers, ask about their days, prepare dinner to the sound of their voices rising in a crescendo of hyperactive noise. Together, they sat at the table and ate; suspending above them, she was untouchable. The tray was prepared and delivered to the shapeless form of her mother, hidden beneath the blankets and lost way out to the sea in her grief. Questions were asked but given no reply. She saw herself tend to the plants. She saw her hands wash the dishes and later sweep the floors. Her voice read bedtime stories to the boys and tucked them in; turned out the lights and wished them goodnight. In the bedroom, her fingers followed the brushstrokes on scrolls and created new seals; documented in journals and read her textbooks about the medical field. Far removed, her eyes watched as she brushed out her hair, ran a hot bath, and slipped beneath the waves for long enough for her lungs to ache, for the bubbles to suspend, for her fingers to lose feeling. When her head resurfaced, lips parting in heaving gasps and form shaking, deprived of oxygen, heaven and earth collided and she made touch again with herself. Sitting up to her shoulders in the water, she leaned forward, heaving dryly at her knees and sobbed. Her hair made her a wet halo of drenched silk and she cried hollowly until all she could do was shiver in the water turning cold. Everything felt raw.

She missed her father with the burning intensity of a thousand burning suns and she would give anything for just a single moment to speak to him again; to tell him that he had meant everything to her and that she tried to live her life in his way. That she was constantly chasing the dream of everything he had hoped to accomplish and wanted only to earn his pride.

She missed the woman that her mother was, quiet and stern and organized; sure of herself and her actions and ruthless in her dedication to her family. She wanted her to hold her and comfort her and help forget the breaks in her heart – wanted her to raise Junseo and Takeo and Takumi in the way that she had raised her. She wanted her to just be _there_ rather than lost within the despair that did not seem to have an end. Lost to the illness of no longer wishing to live.

She missed her dearest friend, and she loved him and she hated him and could not understand why he had done the things he did. She wished she knew where he was, if he was alright, and though she knew that he did not deserve it, she wished he were _here._ Selfishly she wished to go back to when they were children and kids trying to figure out the world and trying to be what they needed to be. She wished she could tell him how alone Konoha felt in his absence. How empty. Even if she could never marry the man that he was to her to the man that massacred his family, left his brother all alone, abandoned the village and become something she never saw in him. Traitor – terrorist – mass-murderer.

Mari wanted to sink back into the water and not resurface again, wanted to hold her breath and let her lungs fill and drown in that little void sea that she had created for herself. She did not want to miss her father or her mother or him or anyone – she wanted to feel whole and assured and herself. She wanted to be the sister, the mother that her brothers needed. She wanted to be the medical-nin that the hospital desired. She wanted to be the faultless, composed, unemotional, efficient, effective shinobi that her village demanded of her. Instead, tonight, she was young and tired and broken.

And it was all that she could do to pull herself together enough to dry herself off and fall into the bed on the other side of the bathroom wall. With hair still wet and a mind too heavy for relief, she sank into the darkness and ignored the sound of the storm beyond as it swelled. Curling into herself tight, she dreamed in black and white …

 _I'm just looking for something to soften the blow  
A second inside of the truth  
I don't see red 'cause –  
now my favorite color is blue._


	2. Scroll II: Season

Sonder - Scroll II: Season

 _I remember when your head caught flame  
It kissed your scalp and caressed your brain  
Well you laughed, baby, it's okay  
It's buzzcut season anyway_

On the third day, the rain clouds that had prevailed finally broke. With the morning light, the grey receded and all at once, the colors of Konoha were restored. Warm broke through the dawn, gilding the rooftops and spilling gold over the awnings. Droplets cascaded from the tiles, playing piano notes upon the ground. The people of the village slowly began their days, lingering in the public spaces and conducting their business in the out of doors. In spite of the rising heat of the sun, a cold wind had begun to blow, telling of an autumn fast coming in their temperate corner of the world. This breeze caressed the windchimes and made hollow songs call – ringing from fence to fence. Sitting on the back steps, just off of the porch, Mari balanced a textbook upon her knees and watched out of the corner of her eyes as her brothers trained in the backyard.

Throughout their lives here, things had changed time and time again; splintered between the wars and the attacks, the tragedies that shackled them to their grief, and yet some things remained in constant. In this time of peace and prosperity, it was endearing to watch her younger siblings fumble with their kunai and their shuriken – to watch their fingers clumsily form hand seals – their chakra ebb and flow. In this age, children were no longer being made into weapons for war. They were allowed to go on their low rank missions; to chase stray cats and help the elderly tend their gardens. They had never killed – rarely _were_ killed – and oh, how she wished it would stay so. Konoha had been founded on the prospect of peace, as a means of uniting unlikely rivals and giving people a _choice._ But that choice was rarely so; it was a hidden village – and hidden villages did what they must to survive.

Yet still their paths seemed predetermined. The push had always been toward the Academy, toward the path that would lead them to serve their village; that would prepare them to make the ultimate sacrifice. Their parents had done so before them, leading back and back through the generations. Mari had never considered a life otherwise, but she had been raised in a different time – in a time of greater threat and unrest. She could protect herself and kill before she could read or write. Junseo, Takumi, and Takeo … did they ever think of a civilian life? A life removed, a life of peace?

Ask not what they gave up for peace. The price that was paid – again, again.

Leaning back, the book was closed about her fingers, marking her page as Mari watched Junseo at his target practice. Her eyes traveled down his stance, to the way that his balance did not rest centered, making his aim unsteady. Every thrown was slightly off its mark, and she could see the beginnings of frustration tighten his jaw, crease his brow. He tried to take it out on the target, throwing the next kunai harder and giving almost a hiss as it rebounded and stuck instead to the wall. Shutting the book, Mari stood and stretched, wandering over to see if he'd let her help.

"Try shifting your weight back more to the arches of your feet," she said, moving to stand beside him. "That way your balance is more squared." Demonstrating, she shifted her weight and reached down, pulling a kunai from her belt. "As you bring your arm up to start the throw, try to always keep that balance. You should never feel heavy on any side of your body – stay precisely centered." In a fluid motion, she threw the kunai at center of the target; hearing the satisfying _thwack_ of it hitting the mark.

Junseo did not say anything, dark eyes watching carefully and head giving a nod. She could see a slight embarrassment bringing red to the tops of his cheeks, but she did not acknowledge it. Her brother turned back to the target and followed her example, seeming now to give more thought to how he was balanced. Still, he looked somewhat surprised when his kunai hit the mark where it was supposed to. Mari breathed a laugh.

"Soon you won't even have to think of it," she assured. "It's just something that gets easier with practice; like most of it."

"I don't really like the weapons training," Junseo admitted, twirling a shuriken around his fingers. "I mean, it looks cool in theory but … it's just something that everyone does."

"Being skilled is cool," Mari replied, immediately. "You should try to learn as many weapons skills as you can. You never know when just a bit of familiarity will come in handy."

Junseo didn't reply, just kind of rolled his eyes and looked down at the throwing star in his fingers. "Yeah, okay."

"Tell you what … if you get better with these simple weapons, I will start teaching you the basics of the stranger ones. I have some scrolls that are a bit more interesting; tonfu, senbon, kusarigama … wire strings," Mari tempted. "Versatility is a shinobi's friend."

That seemed to catch her brother's interest. Junseo relented, moving again to practice his throwing, properly goaded at the prospect of learning something more interesting. She had no doubts it was motivated by the thought of having a few new skills to show off to his friends and peers. Mari resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but smiled to herself. _You really have to break out the bribery._ But she remembered that the prospect of learning something new had always been enough to motivate her, especially when she felt as though she were being pigeonholed. In the back of her mind, she was glad that at least one of her brothers could be similarly bought.

For a few more minutes, she watched simply watched. Takeo and Takumi had paused in their training to follow the path of a little snake through the weeds, talking to it in hushed voices. The little creature had their rapt attention. Mari listened to the stories they wove for a moment before catching movement out of her peripherals. Looking up toward the second-story window of the house, the curtains lightly swayed, parted just. Another smile touched her lips as she turned back to the boys. After awhile, she moved to sit back on the steps and read the textbook she had brought out. Despite herself, her mind wandered, absorbed in the sounds of the target practice and the windchimes making quiet song. Before her, the text on the pages blurred and smeared, the black of the ink seeming to run together as eyes lost their focus …

 _In the academy, they were learning about the history of the village. The version that they were being taught was barebones and minimal, the wire frame of history without any of its muscle or flesh. Mari could not help but pout, leaning against her hand and trying to be attentive. This was something that her father often talked to her about, and the versions that he gave were much more interesting than the meager details offered now by their instructor. The notebook remained open before her, eyes still staring forward, reading what was written on the board, the explanations that seemed hollow when the rest of the class didn't understand what was happening outside of Konoha around these times. Perspective, her father had told her, makes all the difference. He had said that you can't understand why the village does what it does without knowing what is happening in the rest of the world. She could feel the boredom of her classmates, and reflected it, but she knew it was for very different reasons._

 _Raising her head, she turned her eyes to look toward the window, instead giving a subtle glance behind her, wanting to gauge the attentiveness of a fellow classmate. Itachi Uchiha looked likewise distracted, despite those dark eyes also remaining forward. They had been the academy for only about a month now and already she could tell he was too far ahead for it to be anything but a timewaster for him. He was advanced, too advanced to not be singled out. Already he had enemies and admirers, had earned the attention (and perhaps distrust) of their instructor, and Mari could not help but worry about what he was feeling. He had never been one to share such things, and something told her that was … not about to change. Their eyes met and Mari gave him a soft smile, trying to give him silent encouragement._

" _Mari Kodama, what lead to the Second Shinobi World War?"_

 _Immediately, her head turned back front, ignoring the looks gathered from her peers and the feeling of heat seeping to the surface of her cheeks; embarrassed. "The First Shinobi World War had ended with an armistice treaty but still left the Five Great Shinobi Countries seriously wounded. Although the treaty led to a period of peace, after twenty years the economic disparity between the countries became a serious problem. The nations began to form factions and under the pretext of expending fair rights, the countries started using military force to expand their territories …" The answer did not feel as confident as it sounded, and Mari resisted the urge to shrink in her seat as several of her classmates snickered._

" _Eyes front, Kodama." Their instructor said, frown on lips, seeming to have wanted to take her off guard with the question. Self-consciously, Mari brushed a strand of her hair from behind her ear and hid behind it, picking up her pen and begin to again take notes, ignoring the fluster on her cheeks._

 _When they were dismissed for break, they gathered in the schoolyard, peers exchanging gossip and small-talk. Several spoke of how boring the lesson had been today; how they wanted to learn their weapons skills and jutsu, not of dusty history books. Mari frowned at that, hurrying to the trees at the edge of the courtyard, unable to help but find it ridiculous. Being a shinobi was about more than just having the skills of a fighter …_

" _Always put the mission first. Never show your tears. See the hidden meanings within the hidden meanings. Follow the instructions of your commander. Prepare before it is too late …"_

" _Never show any weakness," Itachi supplemented, having been waiting for her in the grove. Despite the casual posture, his eyes were distracted, only briefly meeting her own before returning again to some point beyond them._

" _Never show any weakness," Mari agreed quietly, moving her own eyes to see what he did. There were a group of boys loitering by the entrance, and she knew from experience that they were trouble. Frowning to herself, she did not want to think about what they were up to, but kept their location in the back of her mind. "I have something for you."_

" _Mm?" Itachi refocused on her, looking down at the book being offered to him. It was old and clearly well handled, bound in leather and cover tied shut. Reaching for it, it fit comfortably in his hands, small and soft; smelling of wood and age. The title offered simply, Hoka No Me Kara (From Other Eyes) but nothing else. Encouraged by the look in her eyes, he opened it, the first pages unfolding into a beautiful ink map of the five nations, denotated with villages beyond those of that he knew. More pages were flipped; the writing small and interspersed with detailed illustrations._

" _From my father's collection," Mari explained, "It is a bit more informative than the lesson today. He gave it to me to read but … a lot of it goes over my head still. I figured you might get a bit more out of it." For a moment she watched him flip through the pages, noting the gentle way that his hands moved. "It's not just about Konoha, but about the world."_

 _At that, Itachi looked up at her, offering her a smile that touched only the corners of his lips but was genuine. She could see the way that it brightened the black grey of his eyes. "Thank you." She felt warm in that content, nodding simply. "I will return it once I finish."_

" _I'll have another ready, then," Mari promised him. She had more to say, but didn't know the words._

 _Explosions on TV  
And all the girls with heads inside a dream_

Footsteps would echo along the streets, heard in the back of her mind though lost to the background of noise. The sound would be the passage of time, the clock's hand ticking away relentlessly, counting down the moments. Mari was afraid she was going to be late. Never had her hours at the hospital followed any conventional pattern; no amount of careful planning could take into account emergencies. Her steps quickened; it was all she could do without running through the village and she felt too exhausted to manage that. The healing sessions that she provided took a lot out of her, and even at this pace the world span ever so slightly with that familiar fatigue. There was no time for rest; she had promised Junseo that she would meet him at the training grounds.

 _One of the training grounds_ , she corrected mildly, giving a glance to her surroundings and trying to maintain the even pace. There were many throughout the village, though often they were more restricted and coveted by certain teams. The team that Junseo belonged to was relatively mobile, their instructor preferring to move them more than keep their environment static. It was a tactic that she could understand. They would rarely have the luxury as shinobi as having the same place available to them; for missions or otherwise. Once they left Konoha, they would understand that.

A mother clung tighter to her child when Mari passed, shuffling the child out of sight before the young boy could get a good look. Her own head tilted at this, casting a glance toward the mother and the distrust there. _I am here to protect you,_ she longed to say, but did not, simply keeping to her path. She wished she had the ability to let them fade into the background, to not notice them being there, to simply move around them and let them lose that marked status in her mind. But she hadn't been able to. She had _never_ been able to ignore them nor their feelings toward her. Their auras nearly pulsated with their thoughts; what chakra they had contorting and bending, perceivable to her. _We will endure,_ she reminded herself.

A glance to the sky confirmed what was already known – Mari had about three minutes to get across the village and where they were to meet. She knew Junseo – he would not be one to wait around for long; immediately assuming that she was not going to show. There were a lot of good qualities that her brother had acquired, but patience and faith were not two of them. _How could he, when everything in his life is so unpredictable,_ she asked herself, giving another needless glance skyward. Frowning to herself, she shifted, moving away from the main thoroughfare and gathering up what was left of her chakra reserve, allowing her hand to shift into the familiar tiger seal.

Reappearing amongst the falling leaves, Mari let out a breath, took a moment to gather herself, and simply walked the few yards remaining from the tree to where Junseo waited, his face a mask of annoyance. _Please give me strength,_ she prayed to whatever was listening, giving a low note to signal that she was there, amused when her brother spun and looked as though, for just a moment, he were going to fight.

"Sorry about the wait, I got tied up at the hospital," she explained gently, moving to meet him there. Her eyes flickered over him, noting something else in his expression, something that surpassed merely irritation at her almost-lateness. "How is training going?" She asked simply, starting to walk, hoping to draw an explanation out of him.

"It's fine," he replied, stuffing his hands deep in his pockets and following. His posture contradicted everything about the statement; Junseo almost seemed to be brooding. Mari resisted the urge to click her tongue at him, instead opting for silence, hoping it would spur him into a more conversational mood. Eventually, it did. "I don't like my team." He said simply, but it was enough.

"Oh? Why not?" To her, it seemed like a natural sentiment. They had not been a team for long and it was hard gathering a group of young people and expecting them to become comrades. There was a lot asked there, and usually it took years to develop any sort of rapport. Like anything else, it was a skill that would be learned, and honed.

"They don't understand. They don't take it seriously," Junseo replied hotly and Mari read between the lines. _They don't understand or take me seriously._ Is what she assumed he meant.

"You don't know each other yet," Mari explained, trying to extend to him some patience. "It is understandable that you do not see eye-to-eye or know how to work with each other."

"My teacher wants me to become a medical-nin," Junseo continued. "I think he knew dad." There was a heaviness to those words. Mari knew that Junseo had never wanted to do what was expected of him; did not want to follow in any path that he did not choose and did not want to listen to those that would force him, that would lead him down those paths. The fact was that he had the _makings_ of a medical-nin. For it was not just in his blood, it was in his skillset. Already he was showing excellent chakra control and any Jōnin would be able to pick up on that.

"Try not to shut out the words and advice of others," Mari schooled, trying not to cringe at how philosophical she sounded. "I know things don't make sense right now," she tried again. "But they will in time. Life is a learning curve and right now you are on the steep path upward." She offered him a reassuring smile. "It will get easier. But you have to let it."

Junseo gave a low note, something between a sigh and a scoff, turning away just. The two of them continued to walk, regardless, swathed in the impending shadows of the day and soon swept into their thoughts. Mari wondered if he believed her, or the words. It was a struggle to find the right things to say – or the ones that _felt_ the most right to say. Again, there was a pang in her heart, wishing for their family to be whole again. A thought that was forced down, away, willed to no longer come to the forefront. The fact of that matter was that _this_ is what they had. This moment. This time. This life. And she had to do the most that she could for her brothers, to help them find their way along those paths.

"How long did it take for you to like your team?" Junseo eventually asked.

"I never did," Mari answered, honestly.

Junseo stared at her.

"I learned to work with them," she clarified. "But I never liked them. Just because they are your teammates does not mean that you have to enjoy being around them – it only means that you need to learn to work with them as a unit. It's a skill, like everything else."

Slowly, her brother nodded, seeming to accept that answer more readily. It fit more easily into his understanding of the world, and what he expected out of it. Junseo had a group of friends and none outside of that, surrounding himself with the same counter-culture pseudo-rebellious teens that he himself emulated. They worshipped their heroes and glorified the history they accepted and the rest was worthless. Mari did not understand it, but she always found it fascinating to behold. For Junseo would one day be the head of the Kodama, and all would fall onto his shoulders. Not that Junseo cared or was the least bit interested.

Junseo treated his life as a shinobi as important but playing a supporting role to his lifestyle choices. It was an interesting shift of culture, for in her generation, children were forced into war, as shinobi, from the time they could hold a kunai. Many of them perished in the Third Shinobi War and thereafter, growing to be Jōnin that were either cynical, jaded, or otherwise suffering for it. And yet, below them, the next generation had not yet been touched by such things, were free to express themselves as they wished, and concern themselves with things other than shinobi.

Free time, quiet time, time away from the expectations of the world had been rare, had been cherished. As they walked through the darkening streets of the village, heading then for the academy to pick up the twins, her mind began to cloud again, wandering. Overhead the leaves on the trees murmured, rustling …

 _So now we live beside the pool  
Where everything is good_

 _The trees were shedding their leaves, the colors of them unenumerable as they floated to a standstill upon the glass surface of the pond. There, ringlets would ripple outward, distorting the image, and the grasses would whisper suggestions to the water as her fingers trailed across the still surface. Below, the koi fish would circle, their scales flashing like a great many jewels when they caught the sunlight. Entranced, she followed their paths, watching their fins fan and their mouths, their eyes – their features solidify and disappear into the shadows. She sat to the side, upon one of the rocks, amongst the reeds and the water lilies, distracting herself with these fish. Her eyes followed their bodies beneath the surface, sliding in and out of sight, dragons of water and stone._

 _To her left, Itachi sat reading one of the books that she had brought him, his head bent to the task. The sunlight caught across the metal of his new forehead protector, marking him as a new Genin of Konoha. Mari felt a sense of pride anytime she glanced at it, as well as a pang of nervousness. Already she missed him at the academy. There was no chance of her graduating so early, of her following him, and though it should be enough to see him after, to see him here and there, he was her friend. Dark eyes looked up from their reading, catching her staring. Mari did not look away, offering him a faltering smile._

" _What's wrong?" Itachi asked, tilting his head, just, able to read her expressions. It never ceased to amaze her how she never had to say much of anything; he caught it nonetheless. For a moment he simply looked at her, watching, waiting._

" _I miss you sometimes now," Mari answered honestly, if not awkwardly, trailing her fingers across the water again, chasing the fish. Distracting herself with that so she wouldn't notice her own tone, wouldn't cringe at it. Even her young self could understand there was a certain petulance there, a certain lack of maturity._

" _You don't need to miss me," Itachi assured, reaching down and trailing his own fingers through the water. "I am right here."_

 _We ride the bus with our knees pulled in  
People should see how we're living_

Dressed in cool shades was the night, wrapped in its opaque hues and drenched in flickering points. Sunset had come and fallen, taking with it all the warmth from the skies and despite this, their shadows were cast onto the sidewalks as they headed to the market to shop. Mari looked over the list in hand, all the brothers in tow, making sure to divide her attention between reading and keeping up with the three of them. At the first opportunity, Junseo would be likely to slip off, and the twins were no better. They tended to have wandering hands when it came to the market stalls, as though they didn't know any better. Mari had made sure that they did. The rebelliousness had skipped her but had rooted itself deeply in her siblings, there a certain mischief bred in them that she was not sure the source of. _Maybe mom?_ She thought to herself, watching Takeo stalk after a street cat. Takumi followed on quieter feet. The cat spotted them and dashed – and the twins almost went after it before her hand grabbed a wrist and refocused them. _Like overeager dogs._ She thought, smiling to herself. _Now where are the cabbages?_

"Junseo, don't you even think about skulking off," she warned. "Or you will be very hungry." The warning was all empty air, but did its job regardless, the boy moving to follow her as she picked through the vegetables at one of the stalls, paying for some cabbage and leeks. "Carrots …" She murmured to herself, trying to find some. "Takeo, put that back." Gently taking away a pilfered apple.

"It's like you have eyes in the back of your head," Takumi said in wonder, staring at where the apple had been placed. "But you just see the bad things!"

"It's because _we_ do the bad things," Takeo corrected, eyeing the oranges but thinking better of it.

"Keep training and you'll get all-seeing eyes like mine," Mari teased, picking up a bunch of carrots and exchanging a few words with the vendor, who eyed the four of them warily, making sure to keep their eyes on the twins whose halos seemed to have tarnished. Soon they moved on. Together they made their way through the market, travelling from stall to stall, picking up an assortment of items for the meals planned over the next few days. The shopping was slow and rife with distractions, but she could never bring herself to leave the boys at home. They had few enough hours together already that it was worth sacrificing the productivity. _You could do this in half the time._ A laugh left her throat as the twins slid their bags onto Junseo's arms so he was forced to carry them.

"Boys, come on," she called, looking over the selection of fish. "We're running out of time." She tried yet again not to notice the curious glances and outright stares their presences brought, as though they were a sideshow act or some other form of entertainment. Mari knew that most shinobi skimped out on grocery shopping, and most shopping in general, sticking to the routine of eating out, getting takeout and wearing the standard issue dress. _I have a family to feed,_ she thought with some humor, watching the twins make faces at the fish. She bought some salmon and ushered them along before they could torment anyone for long.

Mari didn't have many friends in her fellow Jōnin. She knew them, she worked with them, but after hours, it was just her and the boys. There was a disconnect, a disconnect that had been there since that time in the academy. After she had graduated, she continued to drift from most of her peers. Once she was put into her team, she learned to work with them but never enjoyed their company. After she became a Tokubetsu Jōnin, she worked relatively alone or only temporarily with others – the only consistent faces she had were the staff of the hospital, but even then, they were colleagues and not friends.

Partially it was her ostracizing herself; Mari was not much of a people person. She was compassionate and caring, but her life was devoted to her work and to her brothers, and she did not have much time beyond that. Many times she told herself that when they were older, things would change, but there were doubts to that. She was in service to her family, to her village, and did not foresee a shift in that. There was also a reputation to be considered.

Her father had been close with the Uchiha clan and after the unfortunate events of _that night_ he had remained outspoken against the version of events that they, that the public, that everyone, had been presented with. He maintained that someone did not feel right and had never been anything but vocal about those points. His reputation had paid for it, the reputation of all of them had, and despite her best efforts, Mari was not sure that respect could ever be won back. She was trying. Gods, she was trying. But she felt lost, a shadow among the world.

"Onee-chan!" Takeo was tugging on the edge of her kimono, pointing to the sweets vendor at the edge of the market. "Can we get a sweet before we head home?"

"Please, onee-chan!" Takumi insisted with his brother, also joining to tug at her sleeve.

"Just one," she promised, heading that way, smiling to herself as the two raced ahead. Already she was counting out some coins, letting them cross her palm one by one. _Little demons,_ she thought to herself, watching as they argued over what they were going to get, pointing to this and then that and going back and forth over what would be the best.

Junseo fell into step with her and Mari looked at him, surprised that he had not wandered off. Usually by this point he had managed to slip away, victorious, and would have been gone the rest of the night. He gave her a raised brow but little else to work off of, also glancing at their brothers. "You're a good sister," he said, catching her completely off guard.

Mari almost stumbled at that, looking at him with eyes wide, having not expected those words to come out of his mouth. Junseo laughed at her expression, rolling his eyes, and Mari recovered, brushing her hair back self-consciously and clearing her throat. "Yeah? Thanks." She tried. Oh, she tried to hard to be a good to them – to do all she could.

"I'm glad we have you."

 _Shut my eyes to the song that plays  
Sometimes this has a hot, sweet taste_

 _Beyond, the lights bled and blended, a vibrant swirl of color that flickered with the passing crowds. The comings and goings of so many turned the scene into a constellation map ever-changing. All was laid out in a sea of shifting hues and a cacophony of the senses; brilliant to the eyes, warm to the skin, aromatic and smelling of sugared sweets. Shifting through the crowd back the way she had come, her hands full, Mari observed the many paper lanterns swaying with the breeze and carefully moved through the people going about the event. Small and obscured, she made her way through and toward the outskirts, glancing about her to make sure that none had spotted where she was going. The festival was now in full swing with the rise of the moon and into the darkness at the edge of it, she quietly slipped, heading for one of the taller trees._

 _High above the ground, Itachi sat on one of the broad branches and Mari made her way up to him wordlessly. Taking her seat beside him, she offered him one of the sticks of hanami dango she had brought with her. Eating on her own, she listened to the music as it came to them, filtered through the noise of the backdrop and softer. She preferred it at this distance, closing her eyes and softly listening as she savored the taste. Sinking into the branch, she tried to shut out thoughts of all else and just enjoy the night, despite the rushed pace of her mind and the beat of her head – the slight thrill at the fear of being caught. They weren't supposed to have slipped away. Her heat beat fast for them both, her cheeks flushed with just excitement. She reveled in it. They were ten years old and he had just made Chūnin._

" _Scared?" Itachi asked, watching her with a wry sort of smile on his lips, easily guessing her thoughts. Mari was an open book to him, and always had been. She had never quite been able to keep her emotions from her face._

" _Excited," Mari corrected, giving him a look, ignoring the fear that was present. "And happy," she added, eating her sweet._

" _And scared," Itachi added a second time, returning her look and fixing her with that depthless stare. The tease was not lost on her and she reached out, lightly pushing his arm. In the low light, she saw the smirk on his lips grow._

" _Maybe a little scared," she conceded. "But it's worth it." Her feet dangled just, swinging lightly. Gently, she shifted to rest her head just on his shoulder, companionable, quietly affectionate._

" _There is no reason to be scared," he said so simply, continuing to eat the sweet she had brought him._

" _How can you be so sure?" she asked, looking down at the festival and all of the people, far enough to feel distant but close enough that in just a bound – a leap – they would be in the thick of them. It was almost surreal, out here swathed in shadow and there, this place of such vibrant light._

 _When Itachi did not answer, Mari raised her head and looked up at him. There was something powerful behind his eyes, something that pulled her into its gravity._ I just know. _Was what the expression on his face read; that he simply knew and that she should believe him. And in that moment, she did._

 _Mari believed him enough to lean forward and press a quick kiss to his lips._

 _An innocent kiss. A kiss that tasted of sugar and heat._

 _The men up on the news  
They try to tell us all that we will lose_

For a moment her hands were pressed against the skin, tight to the chest, vibrantly blue as the chakra bled from herself into the man that shuddered, convulsed and gasped beneath on the bed. Words came from her mouth, the color of lilacs and lavender, and the red stains upon the bed gradually grew and darkened. Heart monitors chimed and flashed caution lights and warning signs. The halls were white and the smell was antiseptic and metallic; singed. Underneath the surface, everything faltered and restarted, and outside the sun shifted from one side to the other. Words transitioned from lilac to blue to grey, fading and tapering …

In another moment feet were catching on limbs in the forest, catching on leaves; barely hitting the earth. Her body followed several others through scores of locations, across mile after mile. Metal clashed with metal. Form moved here and then there; dodging, unwinding scrolls and sending volley after volley of weapon fire. Hands of blue healing smaller forms broken, easing and mending. Soft words of cyan and peppermint leaves, of the forest dark and green. Shadows swaying with the trees and the call of wild things beyond. Biting her finger and smearing the blood; summoning her own beasts. Protect. Seek and destroy.

Mission assignments and close quarters with unfamiliar people; their masks cold and unmoving. Codenames and low words exchanged; professionalism at its finest. Stay. Wait. Come when called. Staying back with those that had also been left behind, features obscured beneath own mask ill-fitting. Just fine. Cold seeping into bones. The leaves shuddering again. Soft, soft, comes the attack and their motion is immediate. The fighting goes, goes, and comes to a sudden stop. Her hands are at work amongst them, reversing the damage done.

Days stretch on, falling into place, torn between these roles that can not be escaped. Disjointed, disconnected, disassociated, she is somewhere above, watching these menial, mechanical orchestrations. The body walks to and fro, asks no questions and goes where its told. Look now, the body is washing itself, brushing its hair, making its bed. The body is making its way down the street, a shadowed smudge laid at the city's feet. Somewhere over her head hangs an unseen ask, waiting to fall. It's edge is sharp. She can feel its weight there; ponderous, heavy.

Only at home do these bodies collide; in moments stolen behind closed doors, in a world separated from that greater outside. Through the door, she walks, and her mind and body finally align and she manages to work up that exhausted smile. Thoughts of the hospital, of the missions, of the meetings and the scrolls sealed and encrypted fall away and it is the small things that take on a greater importance. Helping Junseo after dinner with training; assisting the twins with their academy homework – the three of them playing card games and listening to the rain make music upon the outdoor awning. These moments are reprieve, are breath after deprivation, breaking the surface of water after drowning. Takumi and Takeo search for bugs in the garden; Junseo follows her and learns the names of the medical plants; astragali radix, camelliae folium, foeniculi fructus.

In the dark of the night, she sits in their father's study and pours over the text that he has left behind; the handwriting precise and detailed, the words echoes from a past life. She revels in them, reading his study of chakra and the paths, of the clans of Konoha and the bloodline limits that trace certain lineage. Her fingers trace the diagrams of internal systems and depictions of jutsu and surrounded by those books and journals and those memories, she rests her eyes by the candlelight and falls in and out of daydreams. _Would you be proud of me?_ She dares to think in the dark, a shadow of a voice upon the wall. The house can only settle, sighing as it sinks into its foundations and elsewhere, there are windchimes in the garden and lights upon the walls.

 _But it's so easy in this blue  
Where everything is good_

 _Fingers folded themselves into the appropriate hand seals, slowly at first, taking the time to feel each time the pads would touch; the precise way they fit together. Again, she repeated the seals, and then a third time, before taking a break and forming them faster, whispering the jutsu and watching as chakra illuminated the barest tips of her fingers, swelling to overtake her palms. Slowly, hands reached out to touch the leaves of the withered plant. Closing her eyes in concentration, she tried to imagine what lay beneath – tried to imagine life returning to the curling remains of one of the garden herbs. Too much sun had fried it; she was unsure if she could reverse the damage but she was determined to try. Slowly, she sank into that concentration, focusing on her breathing. A deep, quiet inhalation – pause – soft, long exhalation. Repeating that process as her thoughts wrapped themselves in restoring the herb to its livelier state; feeling the sun streaming in from beyond the window and bidding it to reach toward those rays. Little by little, the green returned._

 _A knock on the door broke Mari from that focus and her eyes opened, chakra slipping from her hands. Rising fluidly, she made her way across the kitchen and to the entryway, hair swinging long about her waist. She stepped down and slid it open, tilting her head up slightly to meet the dark eyes of her closest friend. Itachi Uchiha held in his hands a scroll sealed with the crest of the Uchiha and wordlessly, she stepped aside to let the heir inside. He did so, eyes lingering on hers. There was a shadow in the backs of those eyes, a seriousness that had stolen all the softness from his features. She bent to that and said nothing, leading him down the hall to the study; raising her hand to knock. Behind her breaths, her heartbeat felt sharp._

" _Come in," Tatsuo Kodama answered, and they obeyed. Even from behind the desk, his height was betrayed. Warmth was alight in the brown of his eyes and his hair was swept up in its bun. His features broke into a friendly smile, open, at the sight of the two of them, lingering on Itachi. Standing, he moved toward them and accepted the scroll, holding it offhandedly as though to shuffle it from their attentions. "Congratulations," he said, eyes on the Uchiha, "On your advancement to Chūnin. Your family must be exceptionally proud. It is truly a remarkable accomplishment!" His eyes were soft with that praise, genuine._

 _For his part, Itachi bowed and thanked him, and the two of them retreated back into the hallway. Mari stole a look up at the boy, a frown overtaking her lips. There had been a certain tension lately, one that had a name but she did not like to voice. At times she heard of it spoken behind closed doors; caught word of it in the writings that she carried between her home and the compound. Less often, she could feel it in the village when together they would walk; distrust, fear. In the face of it, she tried to stand and walk tall, to show that she did not buy into such things but it was difficult when the walls seemed to be closing in._

 _They reached the door and Itachi paused, looking at her for a moment and seeming to attempt a smile, the corners of his lips turning upward just fractionally. She traced the lines between his eyes written by stress and returned that gesture, just as faltering, searching his eyes for whatever truth she could find. He returned her gaze for a breath before looking elsewhere, around them, eyes touching the plant on the table before returning to hers, somehow softer._

" _Let's go to the woods," he offered quietly, hand reaching to barely touch against her own before turning, leading the way back outside and into the rest of the world that lay beyond. She followed, heart still harsh in its beating, walking just to the side of him, just behind, as they headed into the forest. They moved quickly, silently, and he waited for her each time they would scale a fence or leap those far distances between points._

 _By the time they reached their clearing, her cheeks were flushed and her breathing was raw in the cool of the air. Wading out into the grasses, Mari collapsed onto the ground and closed her eyes, smiling to herself at the rush of adrenaline that still called through her veins, the pulse of her chakra palpable. She had exhausted herself thoroughly now; between their run and healing her plant. Lithely, Itachi lowered himself into the grasses as well, laying back and casting his sight to the blue above. Together they relaxed into the rising warmth of the day; companionable and for many moments silent, lost in their thoughts. The days were beginning to busy, to become a restlessness of missions and tension, but this? This was breathing. Without thinking, Mari reached out about her head, holding out her hand. After a moment, he took it, holding onto it as they both looked up at that wide, endless sky and were lost in the smallness of themselves._

" _It's hard to imagine there is more than this," she whispered, watching the clouds travel slowly across the expanse. Her other hand rose, trying to imagine running her fingers through the shapes and feeling them dissolve into water across her palms. "It's so peaceful out here."_

" _One day it will be peaceful in the village," he replied, as though it were some sort of promise, guessing at their shared thoughts._

" _Maybe we should stay out here until then," she teased, tangling her fingers with his._

" _Maybe we should," he agreed._

 _And I'll never go home again (place the call, feel it start)  
Favourite friend (and nothing's wrong when nothing's true)  
I live in a hologram with you  
We're all the things that we do for fun (and I'll breathe, and it goes)  
Play along (make-believe it's hyper real)  
But I live in a hologram with you_

 _The scrolls were delivered with increasing regularity, heavy now with seals and encryption; moved back and then forth across the village on foot. Replies came faster, more in immediacy though not once did their writers during this time meet. This practice through the years had gone unnoticed, but now, there were eyes watching, falling upon the scroll carried in hand or on belt. None intervened, but like vultures they seemed to haunt the doorways and their shadows stretched long. Soon it was not just the writing in the scrolls but the summons that they contained; glimpses caught in deliberate unfurling before a quick dismissal. Eyes grew heavy with lack of sleep; the tension only grew, and time seemed to be coming to a head. To what end, Mari did not know. No questions passed her lips. No answers were given. They seemed to pass between the veils of different worlds; on opposite sides of the village. Her presence was silently questioned in the compound; his about her home – momentary visits – touch – go._

 _The crow with the sharingan eye would sit upon her windowsill and tap upon the glass. Rising from her place before her work, she would put on her belt and go. Without breathing a word, she would make her way through the streets, over the walls, and then into the trees, following those fluttering wings. Their meeting places were never the same; their paths always differed. Outside the village was the only constant – this time without scrolls binding their hands to a purpose._

 _Hands would steal ghosts of touches; comfort. They would speak little or not at all. The hours would stretch long and they would feign normalcy with eyes watching the clouds, laying in the grasses, watching the dragonflies alight upon the ponds – the koi beneath the surface – the books over which their eyes had poured. They would let their hands brush; sit shoulder to shoulder and watch everything move about them. The grass would be soft under their hands. The breeze would be warm. The sky would be clear. The trees would rustle in whispers and there would be something to fill that vast empty. The taste of sweetness upon her lips._

 _When the spell was broken, when the jutsu would recede, she would be standing before him, blinking, the spiral of his eyes receding. The effect would always be the same; longing for that warmth, for that other place, for that removal from all of this. Knees would feel for a moment weak in the wake of it, the sensations that remained like fleeting kisses to her senses. She would take a few long gasps for breath; he would take his hand from her cheek. It would be only a moment that their feet touched the same space. But in her mind it would be hours. In her mind, willingly falling under those red eyes, it would be so much more._

 _Cola with the burnt-out taste  
I'm the one you tell your fears to  
There'll never be enough of us_

 _When passing in the streets, their eyes did not so much as meet. On, the scrolls continued, laden with writing and bound heavy with their importance. The light in the study burned long; the meetings in the dark of the night stretched long. All that her eyes could behold were closed doors and secrets sealed in parchment; ink drops upon pages. A mask would be glimpsed in the trees. A crow would sit upon her windowsill. They would meet in the forest for mere moments, for imagined hours, but the halls of their houses stayed dark. She felt bound to him by smoke and strands of red thread, by black feathers and charcoal smoke; by the fear of what was happening outside of them. Mari knew what war tasted like; not like the sugar sweetness of him. The distance between them was painstaking and deliberate and maddening. Every time they would reach out, it felt like a new goodbye._

" _Please don't shut me out," she whispered to him in the dark of the green, his hand upon her cheek, his spell upon her broken and her body shivering, softly. Her eyes were wide and she was fighting the urge to cry. But she was strong enough to compose herself save for the tremor that curled upon her spine. "Please." And he hesitated for a moment, eyes fading back to black, the gradual swirl of red to red to ash._

" _I feel as though I have lost control of what will happen now," Itachi told her. The words resonated; honest. A new fear, unknown, touched the back of her neck along with the movement of his fingers. Her breathing as uneven, her eyes were flooded with emotion. He always watched the way that her thoughts wrote themselves across her expression; usually he enjoyed reading them._

" _I am here for you," Mari told him, unsure of what else to say, unsure of what else that she could offer to the yawning mouth of fate that was about to snap its teeth about them. "Please promise me you'll be alright."_

 _But Itachi could not make such a promise, so he said nothing at all._


End file.
